


Käse

by Lokisgame



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Post-Episode: s04e04 Unruhe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-04
Updated: 2018-03-04
Packaged: 2019-03-26 23:19:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13868100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lokisgame/pseuds/Lokisgame
Summary: He violates protocol, never identifies himself. He is not “FBI drop your weapon and step away” he’s a deafening sound of a gunshot in a cramped, dark space.





	Käse

The day is unbelievably hot, last night’s rain soaked the ground and is now on it’s way back, cooked in sunshine. She stands in the motel bathroom and looks at herself in the mirror, a little pale, a little too tired. _It’s the heat,_ she tells herself, it’s the case that’s thrown her off balance. The very thought of heat makes her stop before reaching for the makeup kit. It’s too hot, it will run down by noon if not sooner. She applies the bare minimum. Her freckles show, so does the beauty mark over her upper lip. A knock on the door and her time is up. She’s got work.

_“She looks beautiful”_ Mulder thinks as she looks up at him, ready to go _“soft and vulnerable”_ but he’s not here to protect her, he’s here to watch her back. He tucks the memory of freckles away and turns the air conditioning in the car all the way up.

The image from the booth freezes him for dreadful 3 seconds. The distorted image makes Scully look almost look like the girl from one of the older pictures, but no, it’s her. _Fuck, fuckfuckfuckfuck_  
His muscles burn as he screams her name chasing the car. Too slow, never fast enough.  
_Fuck_

Howlers in his head scream her name. Cold sweat runs down his back, soaking through shirt beneath his jacket. _Why does it have to be so hot?_ Her beautiful face screams for help and he has to force himself to look away, look at the whole picture. _You want to know the artist, look at the art. Think, panic won’t help her._ Six fingers, six graves…  
He violates protocol, never identifies himself. He is not “FBI drop your weapon and step away” he’s a deafening sound of a gunshot in a cramped, dark space.

Her brain feels sullied, the man taking his own pictures looks mad, utterly mad. The twisted logic in his head distorts the image of himself and no reason will find its’ way through that maze. Whirlpool of dread and panic pulls her down, sweat trickles down her neck…  
Bright light, sound of a gun shot, half-hearted “get an ambulance”  
The voice of a friend. Warm hand.  
Back into the blinding light and baking heat, can she take anymore of the darkness into herself, into her life? She shields her eyes, the darkness she let in fights the light.

She never noticed when the sun went down. The light of the screen felt safer than sunlight. Is the dark side stronger? She felt bad for feeling bad for the bad guy. Knowing he was guilty to the full extent of his crimes, she still saw him as a broken, sick man and as such, could not hate him.  
The knock on the door made her jump.

“Mulder?” she looked surprised when she saw him.  
“Hi, I was in the neighborhood” it was a dumb lie and they both knew it, but she let him in anyway. Going straight for the couch, he sat down, keeping the thing he brought out of sight.  
“You want coffee?” she asked, the mugs clinking then thumping on the counter, scrape of the jug over the heating plate.  
“Sure, why not” he smiled and shrugged out of his jacket, glad to be invited to stay a while. The heat wave hasn’t reached D.C. yet.  
She came back, two mugs in hand, handed him his and their fingers brushed. Settled somewhere between him and the end of the couch, closer than she’s do a few years back, but still not close enough. Legs curled under herself, mug balanced on her knee, small hand. The thought of losing her made his arms itch to hold her, a shiver ran down his spine, echoing fear as it went.  
“Why is it so dark in here?” he asked reaching to turn on the lamp the end table and letting the warm light fill the room, making him feel better instantly. This was Scully’s place, not his, it needed the warm light as his needed the green-blue glow of his fish tank.  
Turning back to her, he saw her messy hair, the glasses almost too big for her face, soft v-neckline blouse. Bare feet. He wanted to hug her.  
“I was working on my notes and lost track of time” she explained, looking away, taking a sip “what brings you here?”  
“I just wanted to make sure you were alright” he confessed, her vulnerability made him feel unprofessional, human.  
“I’m fine Mulder” it made him smile, but it was a sad smile. She hid so many things from him, refused to share the load. It hurt to think she trusted him with her life, but not with her heart. Diamonds never yielded, until they cracked. He wanted to spare her that.  
“I was thinking” she spoke slowly, as if words had to find their places to voice her thoughts “when we worked on the Mostow case, was it always like that for you?”  
Mulder cursed himself for expanding her catalogue of nightmares “Like what?”  
“Like once you got inside their heads, they would never go away?” _oh, that_ "it’s what happened to Patterson"  
He sighed, leaning his head back on the couch, looking around and understanding the true nature of the darkness.  
“Sometimes” he admitted “coping wasn’t something they taught you, you had to figure it out for yourself” he glanced at her and she was still looking away.  
He remembered her concern, her ignorance of the process. If he had her then, while working for the BSU, would he be able to keep doing it? She was his light in the darkness these days. “Is that what you fear?”  
“I started to understand him, it became so clear why he did it” she hugged herself, warding of the darkness “but he wouldn’t listen to reason”  
“He was a very sick man” Mulder rested one hand on her knee and squeezed gently “and it does go away eventually. If you manage to put it behind you, in time it gets easier”  
“Promise?” she finally looked up, and he smiled, really smiled, her freckles were a cinnamon dust in the warm light.  
“Promise, and I’m here if you need to talk” he took away his hand and took a sip of coffee, feeling the darkness retreat a few steps farther, waiting in case she wanted to keep going. The silence wasn’t heavy anymore, her laptop hummed, the clock ticked quietly on the mantle, time flowed by.  
“So what have you got there?” she asked finally, changing topic with a little more cheer in her tone.  
“This?” he showed her the camera “it’s a little experiment”  
“In what?”  
“Psychic photography, to make sure we’re okay” she laughed and he scooted closer, putting one arm around her shoulders, drawing her into his side where she went without a fight.  
“You just want a picture for your wall” she smiled curling against him, the tension leaving her bones. Mulder went through it all and survived, so if he could do it, so could she, they both could, that’s why he was here.  
“How do you say cheese in German, Scully?” he teased, pointing the camera at them, long arm outstretched.  
“Käse” she said and they both laughed.  
The shutter clicked, the camera whizzed, the picture ended up on the wall.


End file.
